


Twenty-One Blue

by neaf



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neaf/pseuds/neaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris has given up on Christmas this year, there's too much to do. Luckily, he has a Darren to fix that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty-One Blue

Breaks between shooting were always seen as a blessing, but in a different way for Chris. For Chris, it just meant there was more time to write.

He'd come home that night, exhausted as always, and slumped through the living room dumping various bags and items of clothing as he went. It could wait till morning. He had the entirety of the Christmas break to himself now: he'd decided not to go back to Clovis this year. Not with so much on his plate.

But as much as he'd convinced himself he didn't need the distraction, the _grey_ of it all started to sink in by December.

He loved Christmas. He _loved_ it. It was always his season, caught up in the decorations and the music and the wonder of winter. But this year there was just too much happening. He hadn't even found the time to buy a tree, and it was already half way through the month.

Darren had pushed the subject, like he always did, but Chris just waved him off and told him to go, and spend it with his family. He was a big boy, he had things he needed to get done and Christmas this year just... didn't feel the same. There'd be parties, and costumes no doubt, but the rest of it felt too much like an unnecessary chore in the middle of too many other things that were far more important.

Still, the grey kept sinking in.

He tried to forget about the season entirely, just focus on his writing and his deadlines. Which was proving difficult with _Happy Holidays!_ perpetually smacking him in the face everywhere he turned.

The click-thump of his refrigerator's compressor started a round of _Little Drummer Boy_ in his head as he wandered by the kitchen, and finally found his way to his bedroom.

He crashed gracelessly into bed after showering and changing, and was asleep in minutes. 

When conscious thought returned it reminded him plainly, _you went to bed alone._

Before he could wonder why that was in any way important, somewhere between asleep and awake, he had the vague warning sense that he wasn't the only one in the room. Dull silvery light peeked behind his heavy curtains; it was morning, and he realised there was a strange hovering presence, pressing at the periphery of his senses. His eyes fluttered open.

With a groan, he shifted under the covers and peered down to the end of his bed, blinking blearily at the shape of someone sitting there. Once upon a time he would have been terrified, but after waking up next to various co-stars for months on end on two separate tours, a part of him had grown accustomed to random people being there when he stirred.

It took him a moment to adjust to the dim light as he rubbed his eyes, and his mouth quirked into a baffled smile when he finally focused. Cross-legged at the end of his bed and staring at him with huge, bright eyes, was Darren. 

"What... on... earth?"

Darren grinned at him, but said nothing.

Chris scanned over him quickly with blurry eyes, not quite taking in the mass of red and green and white. With a glare in Darren's direction, he made a loud and irritated sound before he rolled over and buried his face back in his pillow. 

"Up!" Darren commanded, slapping at Chris's calves through the blankets. "Come on."

Chris made another indecipherable gurgling noise into his pillow before he shifted again to free his mouth from the fabric. "Fuck off, Pinocchio. I don't wanna be a real boy."

"Chriiiiis," Darren said in a low voice, and Chris felt the mattress shift as Darren crawled up the bed. He caught the faint tinkle of ... was that bells?

"Too early," Chris grumbled, followed by a loud _OOF!_ as Darren collapsed on top of him. "Urgh. Heavy. Geddoff."

"Only if you promise to get up." Darren snuggled his face down into the Chris's shoulder through the blankets, arms curling at his sides. "Or, we could stay here."

"Mrrh-shrrm," Chris whined.

With a chuckle, Darren pressed a kiss to the back of his head. "Come on. I promise it'll be worth it."

Chris blinked, breathing slowly and feeling his body sink under Darren's weight. It was a comfort that he could never quite put to words, and one of his favourite things in the world, having the weight of a man on top of him. But he'd never tell Darren that.

As his brain crawled into consciousness, he began to understand what was going on. He recognised Darren's tone of voice.

"What did you _do_?" Chris growled accusingly.

He knew Darren was grinning, even if he couldn't see it.

"It's no fun if I tell you," Darren teased, lifting himself to his hands and knees. "You have to see."

"And why are you dressed like a Disney character?" Chris twisted his neck to peer up at the sea of green and red above him.

"Elf," Darren corrected with a nod. "I'm an elf." He wiggled his hips for emphasis, making random gold bells on his costume jangle loudly.

Chris's eyes drifted closed, and he let out a fond and breathy laugh. "Uh-huh, I'm glad you took my suggestions for height-appropriate costuming seriously."

He yelped as Darren slapped him hard on the ass.

"Up!"

"Urgh, alright! I'm coming," Chris muttered irritatedly as Darren climbed off the bed.

It took several minutes of grumbling and rustling blankets before Chris was upright, arms folding tightly across his chest as he shivered in the abrupt morning chill.

"Cold?" Darren asked with a smirk.

"Sadist," Chris shot back, tugging at his cotton shirt.

Darren closed the space between them with a single jangling stride, scooping up a red fleece blanket and twirling it around Chris's shoulders quickly. He rubbed comfortingly at both arms and raised his brow expectantly. "Ready?"

"Give me a minute," Chris said dryly, "I'm trying to figure out what atrocities I must have committed as a child to deserve you."

Darren mock-gasped, pressing a hand to his chest.

"For the love of god, why are you wearing that?"

"Your batshit fucking crazy costume obsession is rubbing off on me. And _you_ said," Darren pointed a finger at him accusingly, "that there was no Christmas this year."

"For me," Chris clarified. "No Christmas for _me_. 'Cause I'm too busy."

"And because you don't feel it," Darren offered.

"And because I don't feel it," Chris repeated in a monotone. 

Then he realised. 

"Oh god help me," he sighed, closing his eyes and rocking on his feet. "What was I thinking? It's like telling Tinkerbell you don't believe fairies."

Darren grinned, shifting around behind Chris and holding both his shoulders to guide him forward. "Coooome on."

"Why do I feel like I'm about to walk into the Care Bears Christmas special?" Chris said dryly as he shuffled out the door, blanket still coiled tight around his shoulders.

Darren ignored him, choosing instead to press the side of his head to Chris's as they walked. "I know you pretty well, you know," he insisted. "And we haven't done Christmas together since this... started. With us. But I still know you're the guy who makes it special for everyone else. And I'm willing to put good money down," he said, "that it's you who finds amazing presents that nobody even realised they'd always wanted. That makes the costumes for parties, decorates the tree..."

Chris rolled his eyes, fighting down the mixed surge of affection and irritation that always hit him when Darren read him too well.

"... and that kid, who did all that every year? Never once wondered why it was always his job to make Christmas _Christmas_."

They'd reached the archway by the living room as he spoke, and Chris stilled.

His eyes swept the open space, wide with wonder, and his mouth fell open to breathe as he blinked at the glowing lights in front of him. Last night he'd left it just the way it always was. Simple couch, framed pictures, bookcases on the back wall. This morning it was glinting with white lights and glossy ornaments, foil and tinsel in shades of blue and silver. The christmas tree by his window was as tall as he was, strung with blinking fairy lights and matte baubles in peacock blue and silver. A sea of something shiny glittered on the ground.

"What..." Chris breathed. "What did you do?"

"Merry Christmas," Darren said softly.

"Wh- what? Why? I don't..."

"Well, I mean, you said you're not going back home for Christmas. So I figured, you know." He shrugged, almost shyly. "Since you're so busy, maybe it's about time Christmas came to you."

Chris looked at him, expression tight and searching. 

To anybody else, Chris would have appeared utterly miserable - but Darren knew that was just how Chris looked when his heart got caught in his throat.

The moment passed, and Chris's eyes swept the room again. He chuckled under his breath when he saw the ornaments on the tree. "Blue balls, Darren? Really?"

Darren's face split into a broad grin. "That was an accident!" he insisted. "But blue's your favourite colour."

Chris rolled his eyes and shuffled towards the tree, still wrapped in his blanket cocoon.

His anal retentive attention to detail sparked, and he wondered absently why there were almost three times as many silver ornaments as blue ones. It took him a moment to realise they each had writing on them. With a narrow-eyed glance over his shoulder at Darren, he shuffled closer still.

Darren smiled knowingly, perching on the side of the couch and folding his candy-cane striped arms.

Chris leaned in to inspect one of the baubles, and then another, reading them aloud softly. " _Struck by Lightning... The Land of Stories_..." His nose scrunched up in confusion. "What is this?"

"Twenty one," Darren said.

Chris glanced back at him.

Darren's smile hadn't faded, but his eyes were brighter than ever. "Twenty one blue ones. Twenty one amazing things you've done."

Chris blinked in surprise and glanced back to the tree, eyes darting between blue spheres. _Glee. Golden Globe._ Chris laughed loudly in astonishment. " _2003 Youth Debate Champion,_ how did you know about that?"

Wiggling his fingers in the air, Darren pulled a devillish face. "Magic. I have a list," he waved a hand. "I even-"

"If you say checked it twice, I will hurt you," Chris cut him off, returning his attention to the tree.

Snickering, Darren stood and slowly wandered to his side. "You haven't asked me what the silver ones are yet," he teased.

Chris stiffened. "Wh- what are the silver ones?"

Darren winked.

Warily, Chris pulled one arm free of his blanket wrap and gently turned over one of the silver baubles. In blue glitter, in sweeping handwriting, he read Dianna's name. The next one said Ashley, the next one Max. He chewed his lip, confused.

"Your friends," Darren offered quietly. "The silver ones are your friends."

Chris let out a shaky breath, stunned as he stepped back and took in the sheer volume of silver ornaments on the tree. He could see the edges of names, picking a few obvious ones here and there. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

"Wh- okay," Chris whispered, glancing down to the foot of the tree. "What are the stars?"

Darren pushed a toe through the sea of tiny silver stars that blanketed the floor below the branches. Millions of them spilled in waves out from under the base, flashing spectacularly with the rhythm of the lights above. Darren leaned in without warning, wrapping both arms around Chris's frame and pressing a kiss to the line of his jaw. "You can't figure that one out?"

Chris felt the edge of his mouth curl up into a soft smile. "No."

"The stars," Darren began, nuzzling into his neck, "are everyone else. Everyone who's written an article or done an interview, or just listened to you talk. The lives you change. Everyone who loves you."

Chris blinked, numb and reeling a little.

"I didn't count them as carefully." Darren pressed his smile to Chris's shoulder, kicking at the stars with his toe. "It's a fucking high number. But I think it's pretty close."

Taking a moment to regain his composure, Chris swallowed. "You realise," he said, casting an amused glance sideways, "that a romantic like you is completely wasted on someone like me."

"Mmm," Darren pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. "I don't think so."

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"You should see your face right now," Darren clarified, smirking.

Huffing out a laugh, Chris settled into his arms, dropping his head to rest on his shoulder and ignoring the comedic jangle of bells. He sighed heavily as a strong hand rubbed circles into his back through the blanket.

"When's your flight?"

"Back to the north pole? Oh, I'm on leave," Darren said, matter-of-factly, "Claus gave me the year off. Well," he shrugged comically, "he had to. Fuck, I'm glad we started that Elf Union."

Chris snickered into the fabric of Darren's shirt, untangling a hand from his blanket to poke at his side. "Hilarious," he drawled. "When's your flight back home?"

Darren was quiet for a moment, and before he could look up Chris felt the hand at his opposite shoulder squeeze tight.

He lifted his head. He didn't need to say it, but he said it anyway. "There isn't one, is there?"

Darren shook his head sharply, and pressed a kiss to the tip of Chris's nose.

Chris fisted handfuls of the blanket and warped it around both of them, pressing their chests together and swaying slightly. He buried his face in Darren's neck, and felt both arms curl around his back possessively, holding him tight.

After a long, quiet moment, Chris chuckled.

"What?" Darren asked, grinning.

"I'm cuddling the elf who saved Christmas," Chris choked out through laughter. "I'm sorry, it's been a very strange morning."

Darren pressed his tongue into his teeth, amused. "Well, you know," he said suggestively. "I could leave it on. You know. For later."

Chris straightened, deadpanning. "That depends," he shot back, "on how long you can stay hard while someone is laughing at you."

With a loud belly laugh, Darren shifted his arms, wrapping them around Chris's waist inside the blanket and sliding down the line of his pyjama pants. Chris shivered at the touch, the immediate rush of intimacy and familiarity. 

Darren was pyjamas. He was lazy sundays, and busy mondays, and work and music and laughter and company. But somehow, through all of that, he was always the one thing Chris wrapped himself up in at the end of the day, without questioning it. It came as easy as breathing. 

He leaned in, brushing their lips together and clinging tightly to Darren's frame. Hands pressed at his waist, stroking skin as the kiss deepened and the taste of Darren worked its way into his bones where it belonged.

Chris pulled away, smiling sleepily.

"What is it?" Darren asked, his voice low.

"You're an idiot," Chris said simply. "And an elf. And I'm pretty sure you're going to need a step ladder soon so we can keep doing this."

Darren glared playfully, sticking his lip out.

"And I love you." Chris said.

The expression on Darren's face fell from comical to stunned, and his eyes widened just slightly. Just enough.

"I love you," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Chris smiled coyly. "You say that," he rolled his eyes skyward, settling in to Darren's arms again, "but I see no presents."

Darren swiped a tongue over his lips, eyes dropping to Chris's mouth. "Uhuh, well, those come later."

"Later?"

"Later," he insisted darkly, eyes flashing.

With a laugh, Chris dropped his head to rest on Darren's shoulder again, staring at his Christmas tree.

Darren grinned into Chris's hair. "I am the best Christmas elf  _ever_."

"Mmm." Chris sighed happily.

"It finally feels like Christmas."


End file.
